His to Ride by Ava Sinclair

Cole Patterson is a champion bronc rider, but I know damn well he isn’t back in town just to show off in our local rodeo. He didn’t come to ride horses. He came to ride me. Again

Under some other circumstances, Cole and I might have been together. But we come from different worlds, and it doesn’t help matters that my daddy is in prison for swindling his.

I let him have me once, and the sex was so hot it scared me. But I know I can’t be with Cole, so I walked away. Now he’s back and offering me a bet. If I win a hand of poker, he leaves me alone for good. If he wins, he gets another chance to ride me as rough and dirty as he wants.

But I’m afraid it might not be just a one-night stand this time. He plans to break me in like a wild filly, and a part of me hopes he’ll succeed, because deep down I think we both know I’ll always be his to ride.

Publisher’s Note:His to Ride includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Excerpt

He sits down in one of the two easy chairs and ushers me over. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

I can’t help but laugh. I cross my arms across my chest. “You really think I’m going to walk over there and drape myself over your lap?”

“Well, now, I guess that depends on whether you want twenty licks over your panties or double that number on your bare backside.” He crooks two fingers at me, beckoning me over.

I cross my arms. “No,” I say. “I agreed to stay with you, but I didn’t agree to this.”

“You agreed to doing whatever I said, when I said it,” he said. “I’m going to count to three. One…”

“Cole, listen…”

“Two.”

“This is bullshit!” I start looking around for an escape but he’s between me and the door.

“Three.”

How can he move so fast? He’s on me before I realize it and I know it’s about to happen. After years of threatening to put me over his lap and pull down my drawers and spank me until I cry—his exact words—it’s happening.

Did I will this? Can I lie and say that sometimes I didn’t make myself come to the memory of those words, to the possibility that they could be prophetic? But afterwards, the shame… I couldn’t allow myself to be the woman who’d bend her will to a man. I wouldn’t end up like my mama.

When Cole grabs me, I’m ready. And this time I’m not just fighting him, I’m fighting myself because I will be damned if I’m going to make it easy for him to spank me. It’s easy enough for him to put me over his knee, but as soon as he does, I grab his lower calf and bite down. I feel the weight of his hand come down hard on my ass and I see stars as I cry out. He grabs my hair and I cut my eyes back at him.

“Bite me again,” he says, “and you’ll get the belt after this hairbrush.”

OK. I’m officially terrified. My heart is pounding. I’m in the clutches of a sadistic madman and biting is no longer an option. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight. His long, muscular arm wraps around my waist and tightens like an anaconda. I feel him shift as his arm goes into a backswing and then the brush descends and sears me on impact. A burn radiates from where the brush lands and I howl in a most undignified fashion as I arch my back and try to draw both my hands and feet up to shield my bottom.